


To the Root

by Capucine



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2477660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Japan comes back from a tyrannical future to prevent it from ever happening; his trip takes him hundreds of years into the past. But will he be able to complete his mission?</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Root

He is a tiny child.

That was something Japan hadn’t counted on. As he steps out of the metallic machine, he stares at the little blond boy sucking on his fingers, in awe at Japan’s face and eyes and otherness. 

America-yet-to-truly-be-America happily wraps his arms around Japan’s knees, burbling up at him. He has the bluest eyes Japan has ever seen, so much bluer than America-of-the-future; they sparkle, and the tot tries to speak to him.

It’s only baby babble, and that’s when Japan’s heart gives a lurch. Why did they have to send him? It wasn’t fair to put him through this, the empire of thousands of years.

He puts a hand on the hilt of his katana; it’s a lot stronger than an authentic, samurai-era one, reinforced with metals mined from space. It’s sharp and agile enough to slice a butterfly in even halves.

This new turn of events delights the child. He touches the slick, shiny scabbard, and grins up at Japan.

Japan doesn’t want to do it. He nearly balks, nearly gathers the child in his arms and takes him back to the house he clearly lives in. He can barely contain his anguish at the giggles the child is making.

But then he hears it. 

“America! America, you are a bad boy, where are you?”

England-before-the-fall is calling America. And he will come across them soon.

Japan draws his katana. He feels it’s quick, at least; there was once a time dying by swordsman was considered a privilege. Not in his country, but in another.

The baby grins unknowingly, delighted by the shine of the blade.

“America!”

The grin is practically conspiratorial by now, as if by hiding from England he is sharing in an adventure.

Japan’s mouth is set in a grim line.

“America! Come out, you little bugger!”

There’s no time to blindfold the child, no time for small mercies.

The blade flashes in the air.

England-the-mentor-of-yesteryear stumbles upon the scene only two minutes later. He doesn’t notice the strange indentation in the grass. 

England-the-brother screams in horror.

Japan gets one last look, and then he’s gone. 

There will be no America-that-blotted-out-the-sun-with-blood.


End file.
